


Prompt: If I'm going to hell I might as well enjoy it.

by RoseDemica



Series: Clint's Backstory - TROT [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint and Iris backstory, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Sister Agents, Truth or Dare, family games night at the tower, the fall of loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26036803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseDemica/pseuds/RoseDemica
Summary: A little flashback to Iris and Clints past, with some fun truth or dare at the end.Heads up, my partner says that the implied sexual content can come across as non-consensual. This was not my intention, nor is it how I see this. It is, however, valid, and please be aware that it could be seen that way.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Iris Coulson-Fury, Clint Barton/OC
Series: Clint's Backstory - TROT [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904692





	Prompt: If I'm going to hell I might as well enjoy it.

  
His fingers twirled a knife around expertly, trying to figure out when everything had got so complicated, why he'd allowed himself to feel. Emotions he normally ignored and hid away crowding his large muscular frame, crippling him, he'd found his weakness.   
  
_ Blue-Grey eyes flickered around the building he had chosen for his vantage point. The top floor was still under construction, and completely devoid of human life. It was 2am on a Saturday morning, no one would be back until Monday, and he would be long gone by then. He'd set up the sniper rifle with ease, it wasn't his prefered weapon, but this task required more subtly than he usually offered, the pay was worth his slight discomfort. The kill was ridiculously easy, the target far too comfortable in his position. The fool thought no one would dare to take him down. He'd expected all of this, what he hadn't expected was the olive toned goddess that greeted him when he turned around. He hadn't heard her sneak up behind him - he never did. Long slender fingers were resting on the pistol tucked into her thigh holster, the others tangling through her long honey-brown ringlets, twisting them out of her way. _ _  
_   
He knew this woman, she was a government agent, someone he should kill with no second thoughts, yet still he hesitated. Her body was laid out before him, her hands pulled above her head, bound there with the handcuffs he'd previously stolen from her. She was still unconscious from the blows he'd managed to land. She fought well, and normally handed him his arse on a silver platter, forcing him to improve, be better for their next encounter, he'd never expected to beat her. Not today, he wasn't ready, he wasn't strong enough.    
  
His eyes scanned her body, tight black jeans hugged every deadly leg muscle. giving way to a button up shirt, it had popped open while they were fighting and he'd paid no mind to it then. Clearly she hadn't been expecting to be sent after him. His fingers twitched, longing to run across her rock solid abs, before gripping her hips. To be able to push her shirt further away to reveal more of the lacy black bra he could just see the bottom of. If she was standing, she would be the right height to tuck in under his chin nicely. He tightened his grip on the knife, stilling his actions as he tried to get a grip on the errand thoughts, his head shaking from side to side as though it would clear his mind.   
  
His gaze was drawn back to the fresh scarring on the inside of her left hip. Jagged lines that carved into her beautiful skin, it was raised and slightly paler than the rest of her skin. Torture, he'd hazard a guess, that'd be the only reason he'd have been able to beat her. She was already weakened, he'd been cheated of his victory. He gripped the knife in his hand harder, knuckles whitening, someone else had hurt her. His blood boiled, free hand curling into a fist, he'd hurt them more. How dare they touch her?! She was his!    
  
He shook his head, hand running through his hair. No, she wasn't his, she was the government's, sent here to kill him. His eyes scanned her again, the slow rise and fall of her chest with each breath he allowed her to have. He twirled the knife once more, leaning forward on his makeshift seat. He reached out with his free hand, calloused fingers running across the top of her jeans, tracing the scar. Her body tensed under his touch, his eyes immediately flickering up to her face, making sure she was still unconscious. With her next breath out the discomfort was gone, her body welcoming the gentle pressure from his fingertips. He wanted to follow the scar, see if there were any others littering her body, but he refrained. He needed her conscious permission first, if he saw any more he wouldn't be able to keep his tentative hold on his self-control. Her body laid out before him was nearly too much. He pulled his hand back, running it through his hair again, breathing deeply.   
  
A groan had his head flicking upwards, eyes locked on her heart shaped face as it started to move. She was regaining consciousness too soon, he hadn't decided what to do yet. His name, his real name fell from her all-so-kissable lips as she shifted, trying to get more comfortable. Her actions stumbled to a halt when she felt her hands catch on the pipe around her head. Golden eyes that haunted his every moment opened, looking up before they fell on him. He leant back, trying to seem nonchalant, the knife twirling around his fingers once more. Her eyes narrowed when she realised it was her knife that he was playing with. She scanned her over her body, noticing the lack of weapons and her open shirt. She shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable.    
  
"Why haven't you killed me?" She demanded, straining her arm muscles to pull herself into a sitting position, taking the weight of her torso off of her arms. A sigh passed her lips, shoulders rolling slightly before she did the same with her head, stretching sore muscles.    
  
"I won't give you any information, you know this. So do it and be done." She raised her chin defiantly, waiting for him to strike. He moved slowly, uncoiling himself from the chair he was leaning back in. He knelt over her, one of his knees either side of her legs, resting just enough weight on her lap to immobilize her so she couldn't attack him. He put one hand on her chin, pulling her gaze up to his as he rested the flat of the blade against her neck, just enough pressure to startle her.   
  
"Is this what you really want?" He hissed, tightening his hold on her chin as she tried to look away. Her golden eyes hardened as they locked onto his, anger filling their depths.   
  
"You don't want to know what I really want." She spat, her gaze faltering slightly, but she never looked away from him, refused to give anything else away. He released her face, but her eyes stayed locked on his even as his hand trailed down her side. Falling to rest on her hip, he refused to admit to himself how nice it felt to have her body pinned beneath his, the skin to skin contact, the fire she set alight in him that no one else could ever satisfy. He broke their gaze, leaning forward until his mouth was right by her ear, her felt her body tense beneath him, the knife in his hand steady.   
  
"Oh, I do darlin'." He drawled, knowing his southern accent would drive her crazy, it affected all the female's he'd tried to seduce. The simple southern country boy charm. He pulled the knife away, making sure he oozed grace and sensuality as he pressed a kiss to her temple, then her cheek. He nudged her head aside, laying kisses down her neck before pulling away altogether, pretending not to hear the quiet whine that escaped her gritted teeth. Ignoring the way her body arched as though to follow his, the rattle of handcuffs preventing her from moving further. Proof that she wanted him as much as he needed her.   
  
The knife forgotten beside her slender frame as he paced, a hand running through his short sandy-brown locks as he fought with himself. He wanted her, badly, bad enough to look over the fact she was a government agent, that she wanted him dead. He knew better, he did, but he couldn't help it, he needed her. He felt her golden gaze following him, a slight tilt to her head as she tried to figure out what was going on in his head, why he'd flip-flopped so suddenly.   
  
"Screw it. If I'm gonna go to hell, I might as well enjoy it." He growled, kneeling down beside her, his arm slipping around her waist and pulling her body up to his, his lips crashing down on hers. A shocked gasp left her mouth before she reciprocated his demanding advances.   
  
~~~~~♥~~~~~♡~~~~~♥~~~~~   
  
Iris laughed along with the rest of the Avengers at Natasha's recount of the Budapest mission. It was a total lie of course, not one of the stories matched up enough to be the truth, everyone's version wildly different from the others. Tucking herself further into Clint's side, her eyes falling shut as his arm wrapped around her shoulders.   
  
"Anyone want to play Truth or Dare?" Tony offered, breaking the silence as he moved to refill his glass, pouring her another juice while he was there. Iris took the drink with a whispered thanks. Steve raised an eyebrow at her, motioning to her drink choice. Of course the super solider had noticed she wasn't drinking with the rest of them. Besides Clint he was the only one still remotely sober.   
  
"What is this game you speak of?" Thor thundered, causing Jane to wince and flinch away from his side, before she leant closer to whisper the rules in his ear. "Ah! I wish to play this midgardian game!" He decided, raising his glass of asgardian mead in Tony's direction.    
  
"Alright then Point Break, truth or dare?" Tony responded, a smirk tugging at his lips when the god proclaimed he wished for a dare.   
  
"Wanna vanish?" Clint's voice in her ear distracted her from their friends, his lips pressing to the top of her head. She hummed an agreement, turning her head into his chest as Thor stood to begin his dare.    
  
"Hold up Thor. I have a question for Legolas and his girl before they disappear." Tony stopped everything, all eyes flicking to Iris and Clint.   
  
"Tony we're exhausted, perhaps another day." Iris protested, digging her fingers into Clints hip as he shifted slightly, glaring into his chest as though it would hold him still.   
  
"You scared of one little question?" Tony taunted both agents, knowing full well that neither of them would be able to walk away from a threat.   
  
"Fine Stark, one question." Clint relented, lifting his bottle of beer to his lips. It was his first one of the night, and despite the fact that the party had lasted a good six hours it was still only half drunk. Clint was a careful drinker, scared that he would turn out like his father.   
  
"Who was your first?" Tony asked, leaning towards the couple.   
  
"First what Tony?" Tony rolled his eyes at her question, looking around the room at the various levels of confusion on his drunk friends faces. Only Natasha seemed to understand what he was implying.   
  
"You know-" Tony made a rude gesture with his hips, causing Steve to blush and look away, much to everyone's amusement.   
  
"Oh, that's easy. Clint, he's my first and only." Iris answered first, stretching up to press a kiss to Clint's cheek. The archer - having chosen that moment to take another sip, already prepared to hear another male's name fall from her lips, spat his drink back into the bottle, placing it on the coffee table to his left.   
  
"What!?" He demanded, removing her from his side and turning to face her, his hands gripping her arms. Ignoring Tony's conspiratorial 'ooh'.   
  
"You were my first and only sexual partner." Her golden eyes were locked on his steel blue as she repeated herself. Clint scanned her, looking for any sign she was lying before he swore loudly.   
  
"That means-" He swore again as he stood and started pacing, his hand running through his sandy-brown locks.   
  
"I'm an arsehole. Ri I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you." He fell to his knees before her, his hands in her lap.    
  
"Baby it's fi-" Iris reached out to cradle his face, but he pulled away, returning to pacing to the bar and back.   
  
"Don't you dare say it fine Ri. You deserve candles and flowers and penthouse suites in five star hotels and a nice dinner before hand with some sweet guy who'd treat you right. Not some horny jerk who couldn't keep it in his pants on the top floor of an-"    
  
"Shut up Barton." She stood, casting a glance to Natasha, who was trying to piece together a timeline from what she knew of the couple.   
  
"I wanted you just as badly as you wanted me. This is not on you." Iris forced herself to stand, taking a step towards her lover.   
  
"Not on me? Ri you were tied up, you couldn't have stopped me if you tried." Clint stopped pacing, hiding his face in his hands as he called himself every horrible name he knew.   
  
"Kinky-" Tony interjected, but both agents ignored him once more.   
  
"Hey. It takes two to tango, and I'm not some helpless damsel in distress. There were multiple ways I could have stopped you if I wanted to, but I didn't. We both got what we needed, it's in the past, let it go." Iris pulled his hands away from his face, wrapping them around her waist instead, her own arms going up and around his neck.   
  
"I'll make it up to you. I pro-" He whispered, before she kissed him, cutting off any more words. A wolf whistle had Iris pulling away and tucking her head into Clint's neck.   
  
"So I take it she wasn't your first then Legolas?" Tony called, Clint shook his head with a laugh, moving his arms to lead Iris into the awaiting elevator.   
  
"My first was a tightrope act from my circus days, her name was Laura."    
  



End file.
